


The Rules of the Game

by Mireille



Category: Manor House RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-01
Updated: 2003-05-01
Packaged: 2019-03-22 20:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13771602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: Charlie finds himself getting caught up in his role.





	The Rules of the Game

* * *  
  
---  
  
"Would you have gone?" Jonty asked, suddenly.

The question startled Charlie, but luckily (since he was shaving Jonty at the time), his hand remained steady. "Pardon, Mr Jonathan?"

"You heard what they told us. If this were real, and I'd gone off to war, I'd have taken a servant with me. Would you have gone?"

"Of course, sir." Easy to say; it fit his role perfectly. If he'd actually been Charlie-the-first-footman, he'd have gone.  Charlie Clay, of course, would be having none of it, but he wouldn't be that Charlie again until next week.

There was a long silence, long enough to allow Charlie to hope that Jonty had forgotten about it, but that hope was dashed when Jonty asked, "Why?"

He shrugged slightly. It wasn't a question he could answer in "character"--it wasn't a question Jonty would have asked, if they were really what they were pretending to be. It would have just been understood. Charlie would have gone because Mr Jonathan would have expected him to. "Isn't that what a loyal footman would do?"

"Yes. Of course."  Jonty fell silent again, until Charlie flicked the last speck of dust off Jonty's shoulder and stepped back, ready to go back downstairs to polish the silver.  "Charlie?"

"Yes, Mr Jonathan?"

"Why would  _you_  have gone?"

"Because you would have asked me to."

***

He was helping Jonty to dress for dinner when Jonty decided to revive the morning's conversation.

"What did you mean this morning, Charlie?"

"Sir?"

"When you said you'd've gone to war with me because I asked you to. What did you mean?"

Charlie's smile was perfectly bland and respectful. "I do my best to do everything you wish me to, Mr Jonathan."

"Everything I wish?" Jonty repeated. "Or everything  _appropriate_  that I wish?"

"I couldn't say, Mr Jonathan."  He should go on the stage, Charlie thought.  Mr Edgar would be impressed with his ability to play his role--well, apart from the fact that he'd probably kill Charlie on the spot for having led the conversation in the direction it seemed to be going.

"It's in your duties, isn't it?  To provide me with whatever assistance I might require."

Charlie nodded. "Yes, Mr Jonathan."

He watched the movement of Jonty's Adam's apple as the younger man swallowed.  Then, in a near whisper, Jonty said, "That will be all for now, Charlie."  He paused before adding, "But I shall require your assistance tonight after dinner."

"Very good, sir," Charlie said, and left the room.

***

He didn't know how to explain it, really.  It wasn't him--fuck, Charlie liked  _girls_ , and if he ever had gone in for blokes, Jonty Olliff-Cooper wouldn't have been his choice, not by a long way.   But things were different at Manderston.  They were different.  He wasn't Charlie Clay, who'd had a modeling career and a good job; he was Charlie, the Olliff-Coopers' footman and Mr Jonathan's ersatz valet. And Jonty was Mr Jonathan, the young master of the house, not a git just starting his first term at Oxford.

And Charlie the footman would have followed Mr Jonathan into war.  Charlie the footman would have gone to Mr Jonathan's room at his request, and Charlie the footman would have done whatever Mr Jonathan had asked of him--partly out of fear of being turned away without references, and partly because he'd have wanted to please Mr Jonathan.

It wasn't that Charlie thought everyone in his position would have been--well, in his position, this particular position that involved being on his knees on the cold floor, praying that Jonty didn't make enough noise that someone came to see what was happening.  But  _he_  would have been, or rather, his Edwardian self would have been, he thought.  And then tried to stop thinking about it, because it made his head ache.

"We'll be going home soon," Jonty said as he buttoned his trousers again.

"Yes, sir," Charlie said.  He suspected he knew where Jonty was going with this and didn't want to encourage it, wanted to keep up their artificial roles where he knew exactly how to behave, even in this situation.

"When we do...." His voice trailed off. Not that it wasn't obvious what he was asking, at least generally.

"When we do, sir, we'll be different people."

Jonty frowned.  "But--"

Charlie stood up. The cameras weren't there, and he decided that his Edwardian persona would never have been able to make his point, so he said, "We're playing parts, aren't we?  And yeah. If I'd actually been at Manderston then, I'd've... that,  _this_ , would have been what I'd have wanted. But we're going back into our real lives soon, and it isn't."  He shook his head.  " _You're_  not. Because this isn't who you'll be, and it's not who I'll be, and so it's not the same."

There was a long silence. When Jonty spoke again, there was no question of who was speaking--not the twenty-first century Jonty, but Mr Jonathan Olliff-Cooper. "Get back to your duties, Charlie."

***

Mr Jonathan had required his "assistance" after dinner most nights, that last week, and although Charlie had lost all enthusiasm for it, he didn't feel as though he could refuse.

He was the one who set up the rules of the game, and so he was obligated to follow them.  
  
**Author's Note:**

> [me on tumblr](https://mireille719.tumblr.com)


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